Stand By Me

Play “in the night, mummy” said my youngest daughter earnestly, “Play in the night” I looked at her heart shaped face, her beautiful grey green eyes pleading with me. I smiled at her as I reached for my guitar, it was a favourite and a song that I loved from way back. Its actual title is Stand By Me and it invoked in me a confidence that life would be ok. The song basically says if everything goes to shit, that someone or something will be there to count on.

Zoe sat back on the couch expectantly, a smile playing around her lips as I began to play. Soon her elder sister joined us. Both of them were pretty girls in their own way, Emma’s eyes were bigger, deeper set and blue. She had a button nose and rounded face. Zoe’s nose was straighter and her eyes almond shaped. They had their hair cut in a page boy style with a fringe and even though Emma was almost 3 years older she was smaller and more petite so they were more or less the same height. Sometimes people mistook them for twins. Both were feisty, strong and defiant at times. Emma was more emotional and intuitive and Zoe definitely had the worse temper. They were my darling girls.

The song came to a close and they clapped their hands together with woops of delight. “play it again, mummy” said Zoe. I laughed, once was never enough for Zoe, she watched movies hundreds of times over and could recite the Lion King word for word. “Not now” I said to her firmly, even though I was tempted, “I have dinner to prepare.”

Playing the guitar was something I had always wanted to do and it wasn’t until I was in my 30’s, married with two kids, that I began to take guitar lessons. It meant doing something just for me. Being a wife and mother I had become defined by cooking meals, making beds, kindy runs, cleaning, school, sports days, being on automatic pilot and always busy with someone else’s needs. In fact looking back, I am not sure that I felt like there was a “me” in there at all. I was defined by my labels. I was Patricks wife, Emma and Zoe’s mum, Georges sister, Caroline’s friend, Liz and Dave’s daughter, where was I? Who was I? I had been with my husband from a very young age, and left home when I was 16 to live with him. As I child I had lost my father, and I blamed myself because I was the one who found him. We emigrated to Australia and my Mum remarried. I had so much loss and grief inside of me and I had no way of expressing it, so I shut it down and I shut down to life. I didn’t know who I was so I became a chameleon. I became what I thought others wanted me to be.

I didn’t take to playing the guitar like a duck to water, I was awkward and undignified, my fingers uncooperative and obstinate whilst trying to bend and stretch them into places they didn’t want to go, often resulting in terrible cramps. Eventually calluses began to develop and gradually I began to make progress. It was a classical guitar, I didn’t want a pick, I wanted to play with my fingers. I found it hard going, but there was something about the process, the music, when I finally began to play that uplifted me. An indescribable freedom and beat began to develop in tune with my heart and soul. I found a rhythm and flow and it spoke to an inner me and I found that I began to enjoy it. I could sing along to my own playing. Soon I was going along to the Kindy and playing for the kids and playing whenever I had a chance at home.

With music, there was a new me that was evolving. I was stretching, growing and realising that there was a deep dissatisfaction within me. I was not happy in my marriage. For many years I had lived with Domestic Violence. I had put up and shut up, never really having the courage to break out of the cycle. Something was shifting. Something in me was saying “No More.”

Somehow I found the courage to leave and it was hard going. To start again with 2 young daughters and an ex-husband who was violent and struggling mentally was difficult and yet something carried me along. I had support, I had people who said they would “stand by me.”

Sometimes it felt like the mountains had crumbled to the sea, that the sky would tumble and fall and yet I had the strength to keep going. Money was always tight, there was never enough hours in the day and I definitely discovered what I was made of.

Friends and family rallied around. My neighbours helped me out. Kindness from strangers, my boss, life squashed me and I picked myself up and dusted myself off.

I rented a Spanish style split level house which had a gate and courtyard out the front so you could not see the front door from the road. It was in the 70’s style with a massive cream shag pile carpet in the lounge and orange counter tops, with dark Spanish wood in the kitchen. The bathroom was lilac and the linoleum was terracotta. It was nothing special, but I loved that house. My Bedroom had a tiny arched window that looked out to the courtyard and Sunday mornings I would wake up hearing the girls playing outside usually arguing who would be Danny and who was Sandy. Grease was the way they were feeling.

The neighbours were country folk originally from Robe in SA. In their mid 60’s and retired, Betty and Jim were kind, generous and supportive. Betty had a warmth about her and her once beautiful face had faded with liver spots and laughter lines. She had grey hair and she was what my grandmother would term as ‘pleasantly plump’. She loved to bake fruitcakes, which were amazing. They had a swimming pool and Jim spent hours teaching the girls how to swim. He was patient and a no fuss type of man. He liked to read the papers, watch the news and be informed about the world. He was stocky and his hair had faded from a rich auburn to a washed out orange. He had a weather worn face, keen and bright eyes that looked out from under bushy eyebrows. Betty and Jim’s family still lived in Robe and occasionally their grand-kids came to stay. Jim mowed my lawns and weeded, all out of the goodness of his heart. He loved to work with wood and made the most beautiful wooden ornaments, blanket boxes, and toys. My girls still have the gorgeous wooden toy boxes he made for them. Betty and Jim would ask us over for a swim and a BBQ sometimes and between us we would try to save the world over a few glasses of wine.

I worked full time, drove the girls to dance lessons, netball, their grandmas house and always time spent playing my guitar was precious. Singing and playing with my daughters was our healing, our salvation. It was definitely mine anyway.

It has been many years since I played my guitar, and yet the song “Stand by Me” or as the girls would say “in the night” is as fresh today as always. It brings back a time of struggle, and hardship, littered with love and warmth and kindness. So may memories of joy at such a difficult time. Such pure innocence in my girls who are now married and have children of their own. I remember the light in their faces, the words soothing them, as I sang to them. Those words got me through many years of my life and instilled a deep sense of security in my girls. They knew that Song was ours, those words were for them, from me and to me. Whenever there has been trouble, we have stood together and Life has stood by me, by us, and darling, darling, it still does.

By Jemma J